


One Time Arthur Told Alfred He Loves Him

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Series: Darts of Pleasure [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In many ways and with many words, even if not those exact three, Arthur tells Alfred he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Time Arthur Told Alfred He Loves Him

**Author's Note:**

> Like a "5 Times" fic, only it's one time and it's a ficlet. May be read as a standalone or as part of the [Amsterdam](http://archiveofourown.org/works/143307) ficverse.

Arthur looks at Alfred, stretched out naked on the bed beside him. When Alfred turns to him, eyes open, Arthur falls into the gaze. He feels drunk but knows he's not—or he is: he's drunk on Alfred. "I adore you," Arthur whispers, feeling the back of his neck prickling, the world falling away, peace. "I want to adore you with my body." The words flow in Arthur, vital as blood. They flow through him and out of him, into Alfred. "Want to adore you with—"

Alfred's looking back at Arthur; and his gaze is so strange, so queer, so close to perfect it doesn't hurt.

"I want to adore you with my come." Arthur whispers so softly he doesn't hear the words, doesn't know if Alfred heard them. He stops, swallows. They're quiet, just looking at each other, and Arthur feels that spiral he gets only with Alfred; spun out soft, away from control. He wonders what possessed him to say what he just did and how to unsay it, afraid he's ruined something because Alfred's just looking at him not speaking.

"Arthur," Alfred says then, and they're still just looking at each other. Arthur gazes at Alfred with something more than want, more than need, unspoken, unspeakable, unnameable; Arthur is gazing into Alfred and Alfred is gazing into Arthur, looking so strangely, so queerly...

"Bathe me." Alfred's eyes shimmer darker, and Arthur can't move, can't speak, he's drowning in that dark shimmer. "Bathe me with your come, Arthur."

Alfred's eyes are unwavering but he's fluttering, finer-than-ecstasy bliss, fluttering all over and Arthur can't deny Alfred's fluttering. No, he doesn't want to, he never will deny him. "Yes." Arthur exhales his promise more than speaks it; he breathes into Alfred, breathes Alfred into him, and Alfred breathes Arthur, too.


End file.
